


darkest hours

by yugkookisreal



Series: singularity [9]
Category: SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Background Character Death, M/M, Other Fandoms Not Mentioned in Tags, Sad with a Happy Ending, Unspecified Setting, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yugkookisreal/pseuds/yugkookisreal
Summary: it's the middle of war and jimin waits for taemin from his place on the window seat, watching the street wretched by war.
Relationships: Lee Taemin/Park Jimin (BTS)
Series: singularity [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1155971
Kudos: 5





	darkest hours

**Author's Note:**

> i don't what sound a grandfather clock makes and Google says it chimes, and booms.
> 
> let's see which i use. 
> 
> what trigger warnings apply to this? war, sadness, loosing someone to it and hopes left for others to destroy?
> 
> please read with caution then, if you find the above triggering. 
> 
> thank you

he waits for his return at night, watching the pitter patter of the rain on the cobblestone street. 

he's sitting on the windowseat, his side pressed against the glass as he looks outside. the houses are silent l, but if he concentrates enough he can hear the laughter of the children running across the hallways and the telltale sign of another fight from the couple next door. 

his tea has grown cold in his lap, and his fingers around it are white with worry. 

the grandfather clock they had pushed against the velvet sofas echos the hour, it's sound resonating in the townhouse. thud, it goes, and jimin wants to pull the instrument out of its glass cage, wants to stop the thudding of the clock which matches the sound of his heart. 

_boom_ , it goes. _it's ten o clock._

he's chewing at his bottom lip, his eyes trained at the left side of the street from where taemin is supposed to return. 

he doesn't. 

everything shivers when planes fly from above, their shapes inky against the sky. jimin pulls away from the window in the last minute, not wanting his face to catch someone's eye. the flying panes look like mangly beasts, stretched too thin and yet bulombious in shape. 

he let's out a sigh when they vanish, and he goes to his spot on the window seat. 

he wonders if he should pass the time by throwing his tea out and making a new one, maybe being away from his perch would create less tension in his bones. 

the sky flashes blue from the lightening, the rain getting heavier and heavier as the lumpy clouds open up. 

he can't hear anything but the rain. 

and yet the clock chimes. _it's eleven_ it goes. _it's eleven and time is well past his return_. 

something goes thump from his neighbour's side, a strangled scream rising up only to be cut short. it sounds male. 

jimin wonders when the streets would be dimly lit and he will be able to see the grandmother's flan cool from her kitchen window, propped open with music to sooth. he suddenly misses the weekends in which the streets will be filled with excited whispers and he'll spot seokjin pulling jeongguk outside and onew with his beret. jessie would be in her signature trench coat and wonwoo in his black turtleneck. 

everything will be fine then and taemin would be in the kitchen, trying and failing to make his french pressed coffee. 

he can't see anything in the street and no shadow lurches in movement. 

the ancient floor creaks when he moves, barefeet into the kitchen. he over turns his tea down the drain, watching the color spill over the metal basin in shades far too serene for his mood. 

the sea green kettle goes on the stove, jimin trying several times to light the match and then throw it carefully under it and into the gas. milk and sugar goes in and he sees the bubbles rising. he shuts the lid down. 

jimin stands in the middle of the kitchen, waiting and scratching at the tea stain on his cable knit sweater. letters are piling up near the front door, pushed half under the console he had bought cheap and the blood red carpet. 

he needs to open them, maybe minho and key had replied with their half hearted jokes and then he could ease everyone's mind by telling them in the darkness of the town cellar. 

he eyes the letter opener, the instrument discarded beside the secret society and the quarter empty bottle of wine they had plopped open a life time ago. 

he hears the clock go again, ticking and clanging announcing that _it was twelve and that sleep was welcome_. 

with a heavy heart he ignores it. 

and the silence brims over the top again. 

the kettle whistles sharply into the quiet, jostling him to put it away on the wooden counter top. 

and jimin goes back to sitting on the window seat, accompanied by his warm tea and a book. he plans to read it but the words blur three pages in and the tea burns his tongue and the front of his throat of where it splashes. 

he takes a trip to the bedroom, the book falling to the look as he rushes. he changes into a wool sweater, pressing his face to the warm clothing. his face has grown cold, his hands warm and his eyelids stick when he closes them. 

he returns to his post, his movements sluggish and everything forgotten. 

the walls are discolored, once bright shapes and stories drained and yellow. chipped wall peeks out from where jimin had pulled at it, hoping to pass the time. he wishes he could tear it away but then the wall would be uglier and he would fear for spider who will find him at night. 

something moves in the dark and he presses his face into the glass, his glass clicking on the window and his eyelashes fluttering against the frame. jimin's heart had stilled for hours and hours and now it lurches in action as he notices the brown tweed jacket and the pale hair. it suddenly seems too bright against the ebony of the street. 

he's running through the rain, the puddles splashing against his plaid pants. san peeks from the window, the curtain pulling away to show his sparkling eyes and mingi dancing with yunho in the background and meeting his eyes, smiling sheepishly.

jimin greets it with the same smile and goes to watch the man. 

he doesn't know when he had stopped breathing but let's it out when the man halts in front of his house and approach it. his steps are determined and jimin's thinks of what to do now. 

he had hoped, prayed but he hadn't expected him to return and yet here he was, holding on adam and eve and he catches his eyes. 

he feels a smile break through his features, hesitant but sure. 

but it drops when he notices san on the window sill, turning away with a delicate expression of hope on his face, it twisting to one of despair as he lets the curtain drop. the house seems darker after that. 

the tree on his front lawn is dying from the cold, the rain slashing against the fragile branches. and the street is falling into despair around them, the swing seulgi had spent days on rusting in the corner with a deserted hope of raising a child and bunched wet boxes the only objects minhyuk had left for the war to pick up. 

sadness seems like a crusting petals of a rose, jimin plucking them to only meet more and more lives lost. 

dogs bark from outside his front door, the silence blooming around the key turning over and the door opening. 

he's there in seconds, jumping into startled arms and furry dogs. eve huffs on the glasses, turning them foggy and adam licks into his jaw and jimin feels a laugh leave his lips, his hands curling around a nudging face.

"i'm home, jiminnie". taemin says. 

it's the first thing he had heard from him in ages and he feels the tears tickle his tearbuds. he blinks, the smile growing and growing. he feels happier then he had in days, the feeling pooling in his stomach in hysterical butterflies. 

taemin's hands are cold on his waist and the gaze he spies from the banister is even colder. they are missing their loved ones, he knows. he knows it first hand, having lost yoongi to the war and having to feel the heart wrench away and his mind whirl faster into depression, especially when taemin had left too. 

he had been left feeling cold and lost again. 

jimin grits his teeth, swallows and grabs taemin by the lapels of the tweed jacket and pulls him inside. 

the candle lit room seems better with taemin in it, his surprised gaze falling into crescents of relief and happiness. 

"welcome back hyung". he answers, promising himself that he wouldn't let taemin leave again. 

he wouldn't let war take him away too. beside them, the clock chimes one at midnight and taemin is back in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> i miss people who have died and left others waiting and so i wrote this for them.


End file.
